


fuse us into unity

by johnathot-seed (johns_gate)



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, pregnancy warning, soft. that's it. just soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:05:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johns_gate/pseuds/johnathot-seed
Summary: The silence was maddening. Miriam sat on the floor leaning against the bed, trying to do whatever she could to distract herself from the running countdown in her head.. and the ticking of the clock that seemed to fill the entire bedroom.This was going to be the longest three minutes of her life, and it had only just started.





	fuse us into unity

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Using Starlight by Starset as the title? It's more likely than you think!

The silence was maddening. Miriam sat on the floor leaning against the bed, trying to do whatever she could to distract herself from the running countdown in her head.. and the ticking of the clock that seemed to fill the entire bedroom.

This was going to be the longest three minutes of her life, and it had only just started.

With a sigh, she ran a hand over her freshly shaved sidecut. John’s almost constant pouting about its absence had lasted almost two months before Miriam had finally relented and cut it back in. Considering she was potentially about to become a mother, she couldn’t help but inwardly cringe at herself: moms didn’t have shaved heads. They were soft and caring; not soldiers and killers.

Not… whatever the fuck she was. 

It was ironic, she thought. She'd spent so much of her life longing to have a family; and now that it was possibly within arms reach, she couldn't help the icy wave of terror that was currently washing over her.

She glanced over at her husband of just four months, watching as he stood against the wall with his arms folded; his own gaze intense upon her as she finally met his eyes.

“John, how can you be so fucking calm?” her voice incredulous as she asked.

She heard him sigh as he adjusted his stance against the wall. “Believe me, my dear, I am the furthest thing from calm right now.”

“But you're -”

“I was a lawyer, Miri. That being beside the point, one of us has to have some semblance of being calm. Judging by how you crawled over me and almost fell out of the bed not two hours ago in a panic; I think it's safe to say it isn't you.”

She couldn't stop the scowl, but yet the witty remark she had been about to respond with never left her mouth. He wasn't calm in the slightest, she finally saw. His entire posture betrayed his eagerness; his apprehension; his fear, even, over the prospect of becoming a father. She had never seen her husband be unable to stand still.

He was right, of course. Climbing over her sleeping husband after her sudden realisation that the constant nausea she had been suffering with _maybe_ had a cause; and that being pregnant was, in fact, a likely possibility. It probably wasn't the brightest thing she could have done, in hindsight. The adrenaline was the only explanation she could offer in regards to her actions: how she had ended up dragging John to his own bunker at the most ungodly of hours, fuelled only by her intense need to satisfy her own curiosity.

She had tried to keep the reason why she was so desperate to reach John's Gate at almost 3am to herself, and she had done a good job of it for the most part; ignoring John's inquisitive gaze and the questions aimed at her the entire drive there. Part of her felt the pull to explain to her husband why he was standing in the bunker still half asleep and hair unkempt; but she had chosen to ignore his irritated comments, as she practically dived into the Project's stores of medical equipment. 

Ordinarily, she would have savoured the moment of leaving John Seed, of all people, speechless; the sharp intake of breath the only indication of his shock at seeing her holding three pregnancy tests in her hands - just in case, she had thought at the time.

“Are you.. sure, Miriam?” were the only words he was able to vocalise in that moment.

“Pretty sure, baby” she replied, in the smallest voice possible, hardly daring to look at him.

A quiet “shit, I -” followed, before she felt his arm snake around her waist as he directed her towards the door. John’s voice was gentle as he murmured “We should head home, Miri. We can have privacy there”

Which was how Miriam found herself, once again being proved wrong by her husband. She _hated_ how that bastard was always right.

It was the feeling of a hand upon her knee that brought her out of her anxiety induced reverie. She blinked as she glanced at John as he settled himself next to her on the floor, letting herself rest fully against him, sighing as his arm found it’s way around her shoulders to pull her even closer to him. Even after almost two years together, Miriam still couldn’t pinpoint just how the mere presence of the man she had once called her enemy was enough to ease her tension and worries. If she was of the poetic type, she could wax lyrical about how her husband was something solid to hold onto during the storms that were her anxieties and her PTSD; how they had both found salvation in the arms of each other.

But she wasn’t; and so she tried to remind herself to remain content that whatever the outcome, she wouldn’t be alone. Not anymore.

“Talk to me, Miriam” John muttered as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I can't help you if you don't talk to me, my dear.”

He watched as she no longer met his gaze, looking past him rather than at him, before her gaze once again settled at the clock counting down the minutes until their future was determined. He ignored the pool of dread in his stomach as he studied his wife, who was now beginning to nervously bite at her lip.

“You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?” voice soft as he finally asked the question that already was beginning to gnaw at him.

She jolted. “No, I - I just… John, do you not think this isn’t too soon? We’ve barely been married for 4 months, I mean..” she raised a hand to interrupt him, as he made some attempt to talk. “If… if I’m right, and I’m not saying that I am because I could be wrong, but if I am - I’m just over 6 weeks. John, that means we -”

“That’s your concern? How quickly it happened?” He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from him. “Are you truly not surprised that it didn’t happen sooner? Or is there something else going on in that mind of yours that you’re not telling me?”

She drew a deep breath as she tried to compose her thoughts: how could she voice her own fears about her capabilities as a parent without dragging her husband down with her? Despite the shell-shocked expression on John’s face (after how he found out they might potentially become parents, she could hardly blame him) she saw no traces of anxiety settling over his sleep-deprived features - not that he was showing, anyway. Her own thoughts were heavy - she didn’t want John to experience the same anxieties she was trying to battle ever since returning home to the Ranch.

Being vulnerable had never come naturally to Miriam, but the two of them had swiftly learned that communication was vital for the two of them. So, she inhaled a shaking breath and took a leap of faith that was somehow more fear inducing than her time in the Henbane some years back.

“I want this. A lot, John. I want a family with you - more than anything. It’s just - John, what if I’m not? What if it’s a fucking negative and I got all our hopes up for nothing? I don’t know anything about this sort of stuff, I -” The hand running through her hair finally stopped, instead fell to rest on John’s hand still upon her knee. “I don’t know what’s worse. The thought that I might not be… or the thought that I might be.” 

Her eyes scanned her husbands face for any signs of a reaction at her words; but despite his slightly dishevelled appearance and the slight furrow of his brows, John’s face remained almost expressionless as he gazed at her intently, waiting patiently for her to continue. 

“That… sounds awful, doesn’t it? It’s... John, what if I’m not cut out to be a mother? I’ve never had a family before, you know this. Your brothers are family to me now, but… I’ve never done anything like this before! You at least know what not to do - you’ll be a fantastic father, I don’t doubt that. Look at how fucked up I was - how fucked up I am! I don’t want to mess up our kid’s life because I don’t know how to be a mom. Shit, I don’t know, John. I’m just... scared, baby. I don’t want to screw up the one thing I’ve always wanted.”

Her voice trailed away as she looked directly in front of her, hardly daring to look at her husband. Somehow her hand had become entwined with John’s; their fingers locked together, her knuckles white from the grip she had on his hand. The soft circular motions John was currently massaging onto her hand was the only thing keeping Miriam somewhat grounded.

“I’m sorry. Listen to me, complaining when you… when you had it worse. I -”

“Miriam.” John’s voice was abrupt, interrupting her. “Miriam, look at me.”

She felt the pool of anxiety in her gut grow deeper: John rarely spoke over her, only on occasions where he felt her smart mouth might get them in more trouble than he deemed necessary. But he never once stopped her during their more vulnerable moments. She didn’t want to look at him; didn’t want to see the disappointment, the anger - hell, even the hurt - she knew that she’d see in his eyes over what she had just confessed. She was stupid, selfish -

A softer “Miri” followed, and she blinked as she broke out of her quickly spiralling thoughts. “Miriam, our pasts are not a competition over who… ‘had it worse’, as you said. You know this, my sweet. You don’t ever have to apologise for this.” John waited for any sign that Miriam was about to respond, before continuing. 

“You know, Miriam, I’m scared too. Just as much as you are, I’d dare say. If I had to admit...I don’t think I’m father material, Miri. Not by any stretch of the imagination did I ever think I’d experience something like this.” Miriam barely felt his hand leave hers, and almost jumped as John cradled her face, gently manoeuvring her so she was finally looking at him. “I know we’ve discussed a family but.. - well, it’s a little different when you’re in this sort of situation, wouldn’t you agree? I’m terrified, Miriam. I - I don’t know how to be a father. All I know: shit, I mean - knew - was violence..and pain. I don’t want that for our child, but I don’t know how to stop that from happening. I - I don’t want to become my father, Miriam” 

Miriam let herself lean into his touch as he spoke, and she noticed how his voice had cracked ever so slightly at those last words; how glassy his eyes had become. She had heard the old adage: that the eyes are the windows to the soul. She despised just how tortured his soul was, even after all these years; how tangible the fear was, how the pain lingered to this day. 

Her own hand reached upwards to hold the hand still cradling the side of her face, as John began to run his thumb along her cheekbone: those blue eyes she loved so never once leaving her face. Miriam made to speak but paused as John carried on.

“That you have faith in me is all the encouragement I need, and you know I have nothing but faith in you, Miri. I've seen you with Evie, my dear. You're a wonderful aunt and will make an even better mother. I know we can do this Miriam, and we'll deal with this just like we dealt with everything else: together. I'm not going to pretend I'm not scared, but... I want this. With you, Miriam. More than anything, my sweet”

The wave of relief that washed over her was tangible even to him, and he smiled as her features relaxed as she gave a small nod. 

“Yeah. You’re right - as usual. You bastard.” There was no malice in her voice, and she grinned faintly as she removed herself from his touch. “We’ve got this… no matter the result... John.. thank you.”

The two of them settled into a silence not unlike before, although filled with comfort rather than anxiety. Miriam nestled further against John’s shoulders as she kept an eagle eye on the clock, heart hammering as the last minute seemed to almost slip by.

And all too quickly it was over. 4:17. 

Miri took a deep breath as she stood up and walked over to the test lying on the bedside table. Her hands shook as she reached for it and yet, despite her fears, she couldn't help but get her hopes up. She was still holding her breath as she looked down at the result.

Positive.

A quiet laugh escaped her as she stared down at the tiny pink lines; a symbol of just how much their lives were about to change.

“Miri?”

Unable to resist, she restrained her grin as she spun around. John was standing almost directly behind her, wringing his hands. “What does it say?” his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“John, I know you once threatened to kick me out of the Ranch when I jokingly called you a daddy, but I'm afraid you'll have to get used to someone else calling you that. Someone much littler than me”

Her smile returned with an intensity so strong that already her cheeks were beginning to ache. She watched John blink in bemusement; as he tried to make some sense of what Miriam just told him.

“You mean…?”

“It's okay - we've got plenty of time to get you used to it. According to this thing, maybe 7 or 8 mon -”

She gave a yelp of surprise as she suddenly found herself lifted off her feet, John pressing his lips to hers with a tender kiss as he lifted her up; Miri hooking her legs around his waist as she felt John’s smile against her own; the sounds of their laughter filling the room.

Suddenly, in a voice so hushed and revered that Miriam doubted that she really heard it, John spoke.

“Thank you, Miriam”

Not trusting herself to speak, she made a noise of acknowledgement, simply resting her forehead against his. They stayed like this for a moment, before he set her down; the two of them still locked in a quiet embrace.

“John?” Her voice was muffled as she remained nestled into his chest, her own arms wrapped firmly around his waist. She smiled to herself as she felt the vibration in his chest as he hummed his response: she knew he barely trusted himself to speak, the sudden realisation that he was soon to become a father in a few short months almost too much for him - no matter how well he tried to compose himself.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your hand”

Miriam’s smile widened as she heard John give a snort of laughter. She looked up at him only to see him looking down at her; his radiating smile rivalling her own exhilarated expression.

“It was good practice, Miriam. Something tells me I’ll need all the experience I can get, lest you end up breaking my hand when the time comes.” He leaned down slightly, only to be met halfway by his wife standing on her tiptoes. Hands tracing slight circles on her forearms; he allowed himself to bask in this moment with his wife: with his family. 

“And if you do? Miri - _it will be worth it.”_


End file.
